


Hallelujah

by hectorpriamides



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, i only listed austria as the character because the others aren't named, like really undescript and stuff but eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 02:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2451749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hectorpriamides/pseuds/hectorpriamides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many things can bring the 'hallelujah' from a man's lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> because I just love the song Hallelujah so much. This story uses both the Jeff Buckley version and Leonard Cohen [original].  
> 

It started when he was a kid, no doubt. From the first day he sat behind the piano, small chubby fingers pressing gently on the keys, feet not reaching the pedals. When he played his first chord, the C Major, and his mother grinned with joy, ruffling his straight hair, then moving to show him the C Sustains and C7. His mom doesn’t seem to talk much about her time as a pianist since they moved to Hungary when he was small, but she shows him the chords, teaches him the notes and gets him books and sheet music.

Age eight, he performed his first recital. Not a large public, but one around his mother’s friends in their den. A small part of Beethoven’s fifth, one he’s known since his first week. His mother tells him that’s the first piece she learned in the Austrian concert halls when she was little. Back when they lived in Austria, his mother always seemed to know where to go, but he can’t speak on that. He only knows that because she tells him. That all happened before he was born, before she met his father.

Age eleven he got a crush on a pretty German transfer student, and he begged Mother to get him ‘Fur Elise.’  She said she’d work it in with his other pieces, and he could’ve jumped for joy. Within three weeks he had the piece down, and invited the German girl over. She clapped, blushing heavily, before kissing him on the cheek. He blushed, and she thanked him, before stating that while the idea was sweet, her stay in Hungary wasn’t that long, and they were so young.

Age thirteen he tries to lean away from the keys. He needs a life he knows. He curls his straight hair, letting it wave out. He doesn’t touch the piano for what seems like months, but it’s only been a few weeks. He can’t stay away, and forgoes his friendly outings, sitting before the piano and muttering apologies in German. Before the piano he only speaks German for some reason, not the Hungarian he uses in everyday conversations. He apologies heavily to it, playing as many chords and song patterns he can remember.

Age fifth-teen he knew so much about pianos it was a bit disheartening. He barely left to enjoy himself, spending a majority of time the keys. He let his hair straighten out again. He’s using glasses, not because his vision is bad, but because it gives him a better look. He has music memorized, and he’s been offered to attend preforming arts school. He’s also been offered to play at churches, and that’s what he does. He goes from the fourth and the fifth, to the minor fall and the major lift while the preaching goes on behind him. They don’t always end their prayers with ‘Amen,’ more ‘Hallelujahs,’ chorusing in that church than he’s ever heard. It’s not like he spends too much time in churches. Religion wasn’t something he could get his mind behind. The older lady that plays the organ has offered to teach him the organ. He learns it isn’t too different, same keys, they just resonate differently. He spends more and more time in a church than he ever thought.

Age twenty he moves back to Austria, leaving his darling mother behind and what little friends he has. He has to leave the piano, and settles for the small keyboard he’s seen the school use. No pedal, just keys that he has to plug in. He never touches the dials to change the sound, only to go from the piano he loves to the organ he knows. He goes to work, eats dinner, let the television drone in the background, while he absentmindedly taps the keys. His mother sends him more pieces of music, from classical to the more modern sounds that his peers know. He’s been tempted from the keyboard only once, and that’s by a German lad with pale, _pale_ blond hair, almost silver. He invites the German man into his home, only to have him maliciously teased because of the piano. His German lover finds it hilarious that he thinks the piano is a good instrument, and goes on about how the flute is better. He feels like his world is collapsing. The piano is what he knows. He defends his longest companion, and before he can tell what’s happening, the German is pressing him on the couch, arguing into his ear. And the conversation goes from how silly the piano is to the German asking him if he has any lube. By time everything is over, he’s thinking about church, muttering a ‘hallelujah’ as the German pulls away. He’s being kissed, and he realizes it’s this German’s lips that’s drawn the hallelujah.

Age twenty-three he meets a Hungarian girl. She’s in Austria with dual citizenship, traveling freely for work. She’s pretty, always wearing a flower clip and cleaning his house (something he really forgets to do). They’re married before he knows it, and they’re fighting just as soon. She picks up more hours, and he tries to get more and more recitals. But certain nights, when he plays the piano, she’ll lean her head on his shoulder, bouncing the neighbors Italian boys on her knee, and he can almost pretend things are fine. He still loves her, no doubt, but when the divorce comes, there’s a cold and sorrow filled ‘hallelujah’ on his part. She still visits, but it’s colder. She still cleans, but not with the loving adoration she used to. He moves from his apartment, because he can still see her ghost in the halls. Before he knew her he lived alone, and he does now. He’s sure the divorce was because they both shut each other out. They meet some nights, and all they can do is breathe out gentle ‘hallelujah’ against one another. She leaves the bird though.

Age thirty he goes back to Austria to visit his dying mother. If a sweet woman like his mother can die, he’s pretty the God he used to play music for isn’t real. All he’s seen from God was death and violence, and he curses Him every chance he can get. Everything he’s ever loved was taken, and he’s certain that love is a dark thing. And when his mother’s funeral happens in that same old church, he can barely hit the organ’s keys, and can barely usher out a ‘hallelujah’ at the end of her prayer without being broken.

Age fourty-four he meets back up with the German girl. They fill each other in, and when he brings up the ordeal with God, the German accuses him of taking the name in vain. He pretends like he doesn’t know what he means; only saying that all he knows are the cold and broken hallelujahs, or the one’s filled with joy he hears during the lively days in church (when he goes). The German girl, who turns out to be related to the German man, says that when his time comes, he better choose wisely between his hallelujahs. The Hungarian woman still frequents, and the Italian boys they use to watch (now grown) and urges him to play the piano. And he tries, he tries to think and he tries to touch the piano again, something he hasn’t touched in 14 years since his revelation.  Something went wrong between him and the beautiful instrument that carried him through his life. And before he knows what he’s doing, a night where he’s left alone with the piano,  he’s dropped to his knees before the black and white keys, muttering ‘hallelujah,’ fingers ghosting over the C chord, playing them gently. It’s a nostalgic feeling, and it brings yet another ‘hallelujah’ forth.


End file.
